Photograph
by basscymru
Summary: We'll keep our love in this photograph.


_Dear Remus,_

 _Harry's in hospital and I want to give him some pictures of his parents. Do you have any you could send?_

 _Best wishes,_

 _Rubeus Hagrid_

Remus ran a finger over the scrawled note, absent mindedly petting Hagrid's owl. It had been several years since he'd last seen his old photographs, before the war ripped his life from his fingertips, and he was reluctant to fetch them now.

He hadn't seen Harry since the boy was nearly a year old. Of course, he'd seen Harry had gone to Hogwarts in the Daily Prophet, and had studied the photograph accompanying the article quite avidly, but that was all the contact he'd allowed himself to have.

It had never been up for discussion, as far as he was concerned. Harry definitely didn't need the man responsible for his parents' deaths in his life, especially one who could potentially become such a threat. Whenever there was any niggling doubt, any temptation to contact him, he'd do his best to squash it without a second thought, although he had once gotten so far as the Dursley's drive, before panicking and apparating when he saw Petunia Dursley give him a suspicious look through the window.

But he supposed to send Harry photographs wouldn't technically be breaking his rule, even if he didn't want to dig out the pictures and, inevitably, the memories.

At that time, Remus had found a tiny flat in a rundown area of London, and was trying to keep down a job in the local newsagents. It was boring work, but it was what he needed to survive, and that was all Remus asked for.

Whenever he moved, he would always bring all of his things with him. His living spaces were perpetually littered with books and journals and records and clothes. He probably should have thrown them out, but he lacked the motivation. They were all his escapes from the near nightmare he found himself in, and he was reluctant to get rid of any of them.

In the corner of his flat, there sat a trunk filled with photographs and notebooks from his youth. Though he hadn't opened it for years, it still seemed to follow him around wherever he went. The thought of getting rid of them was almost unbearable, which was why it was with trembling hands he leaned over to open the trunk.

There were no more than two dozen photographs stacked in the trunk, neatly sectioned away from the journals filled with thoughts and doodles. Remus picked the photos up and sat heavily on the floor to flick through them.

The first photo was a Muggle photograph, taken on holiday in West Wales of James and a very pregnant Lily. James was smirking his signature lopsided smile, one arm draped over Lily. She seemed to be in the middle of rolling her eyes, one protective hand resting on her belly. They looked so _happy._ Even in the middle of a war they had insisted on a holiday, and though it had been a trip wrought with tension, the Potters had often relieved the atmosphere with only a stupid joke.

Remus felt hot tears trickling down his face, though he didn't remember starting to cry. He wiped his eyes with the sleeve roughly, frustrated at ruining a perfectly good memory by crying. His first instinct was to put the photographs away and to wash away the memories with alcohol and George Orwell, before remembering that he wouldn't allow himself alcohol in the flat for exactly that reason, and that the baby in Lily's stomach deserved to know what his parents looked like.

The trembling in his hands worsening, Remus turned to the next photo, in which sat Sirius and Peter, pulling faces and laughing into his wizarding camera. Feeling his heart clench and his stomach fall Remus dropped it as though it was scalding hot.

The people in the next picture had eyes only for each other, and Remus found he couldn't look away. It was a wizarding photograph, taken by a prowling Marlene at Lily and James' wedding. Remus was sitting with Sirius on the grass; the pair of them huddled up under a jacket together to shield themselves from the wind. Sirius leaned over to kiss Remus, who then returned the kiss. The photograph did this over and over and over again, as if trying to remind Remus what he had lost. Remus didn't know how long he sat on the floor, just staring at the two of them. He'd stopped crying, and brought the photograph closer to his face, almost as if he was trying to fall into it. He would do anything to relive that moment once more.

The drying tears were staining his face, making them itch. He ran a hand over his face half-heartedly, but he found his energy had been sapped out of him.

Sirius had given him the photograph before he'd left him. Remus knew by that point that Sirius had made his decision, and that it was now only a matter of time. He could remember the morning Sirius had given it to him, handing it to him without quite meeting his eye. "Marlene took this at Lily and James' wedding. I thought you might like it, or something," he muttered. When Sirius had left, Remus had turned it over, just as he turned it over nearly eleven years later.

 _We'll keep our love in this photograph, and whatever happens, it will always live in this moment._

A/N: I got the idea from this both from a prompt for a competition, and from Ed Sheeran's song "Photograph", because who doesn't love Ed Sheeran?


End file.
